


Preconceptions

by sigmalied



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Family Issues, Multi, Open Relationships, Other, Polyamory, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9682205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigmalied/pseuds/sigmalied
Summary: As decades pass, the risk of having their secret exposed steadily increases. One minor slip could ruin Tevos and endanger Dianth's life if Aria's enemies make enough connections. When this nearly happens, Tevos is swift to personally vet their new confidante: a young and beautiful Afterlife dancer named Anthya.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Winner of the December 2016 poll: "Tevos/Aria/Anthya". Part of the GBTQ universe, where Anthya is one of Aria's dancers and has a character arc mainly told through Liselle's perspective. 
> 
> This fic is being continued to fulfill the original prompt of a poly relationship. As you can expect, it will entail an eventual threesome; one to be portrayed with consideration and respect to the best of my ability. Although I've listed this as part of the GBTQ universe, I haven't decided whether it will be "canon" to that storyline, but it is flexible since Preconceptions runs parallel to the future Dianth project.

It was an accident, through and through. And undeniably _both_ of their faults. Even Aria, who could remain so well put-together and composed under colossal pressure, was liable to misstep after a few tall glasses of liquor, or when she got a bit too carried away by the tides of her own success.

Anthya had known about Aria's alliance with the asari councilor. She was why Aria sometimes took her trips to the maligned Citadel on rare occasion, leaving her lieutenants and dancers like Anthya behind to hold the fort in her stead. But Anthya hadn't imagined that her meetings with the councilor entailed anything beyond bargaining, scheming, laundering, or whatever it was they discussed.

When she had glimpsed from Aria's roiling thoughts at the height of her passion a likeness of the councilor, completed by an intimate and exclusive recollection of white artistry decorating the councilor's back, the true nature of their relationship was revealed at once. Immediately after, Anthya had realized and feared the grave mistake, apologizing profusely despite not knowing whether it was she who had intruded upon Aria's private thoughts, or if Aria had pressed upon her mind too many individual memories to have screened them diligently.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. It was done. Aria's secret had escaped the confines of her mind and could not be retrieved.

It surprised Anthya, when Aria showed no visible signs of anger. She had reached forward, pressed her thumb against Anthya's lips to dam the bewildered stream of regret and offers of reparation, and acted as though she were on the verge of a headache. Anthya spoke no more at her implicit behest. She dressed herself to basic decency with the intent to leave, but before she could pass through the penthouse door Aria asked her, "Is there somewhere you need to be?"

Naturally, Anthya had paused in perplexity, turned to face her, and beheld Aria where she lie half-hidden beneath the sheets. She hadn't been ordered to stay. And Aria wouldn't; that simply wasn't her way. Maybe there were some who thought it _was_ Aria's tendency, to ritually surround herself with the nocturnal company of however many she could fit into her bed on the basis of supreme entitlement, or that she would make them entertain her in depraved manners. But those who assumed such things of her clearly hadn't ever tuned into Aria's incredible caution, general distrust, and her private troubles with interpersonal boredom. Flesh rarely delighted Aria unless its source offered something additional and well worth the risk. It was a nuance tragic few grasped.

But Anthya did. She knew Aria better than most ever would. She had felt her plentiful generosity and warmth, and witnessed her descent into bitter, vindictive wrath when crossed. Yet the knowledge of her affair with the councilor still shocked her to the core. Not because of the improbability of her winning a councilor's personal favor in this regard (Anthya knew that Aria could have anyone she wanted with appropriate time and effort), but because it went, ostensibly, against Aria's traditional rhetoric of _never trusting politicians_. Years of words voided by a single memory: the desire with which she had peered at the politician in question, wanting her to yield in one direction and move her in the other. Move her like no one else did, gather her up greedily all for herself, devour her even, with all of it abstractly rolled up into a single flickering tendril of emotion passing through their heads.  

The reality that she slept with the councilor caused Anthya to wonder if she perhaps did not know Aria as well as she believed. Being introduced to the possibility that she only knew a fraction of Aria in reality with absolutely no reliable way to tell how much remained to decipher should have been enough to discourage her, but Anthya adored Aria far too much to ignore a chance to reaffirm her undying loyalty by remaining at her side even while confused and frightened. So she returned to Aria and helped keep her bed warm for the night, simultaneously reassuring her that she had no intentions of exposing her secret as she slept.

Just days later, Aria summoned Anthya to her lounge in the middle of her shift solely to tell her, "She wants to meet you."

**. **

** -][- **

**. **

Tevos had known about the dancer for years. She thought it only realistic that Aria would have selected from her ranks a handful of individuals to dally with. Omega was, after all, her home and therefore the location in which she spent the vast majority of her time. Tevos had always been the outsider in that respect, and never the other way around, even during times when she and Aria had grown very fond of one another. It was never a problem. Not even for a second had she anticipated monogamy from her nor did Tevos particularly mind when her other partners occasionally came up in conversation. It was a normalized part of seeing Aria, just another mundane condition woven into the invisible contract she had signed long ago.

It was only when she was alerted to Anthya's knowledge of their affair that Tevos finally realized the true danger of having a relationship with someone entangled in the minds of others. And Aria didn't tell her for Tevos's sake. If it were her and Tevos alone she would have likely kept it to herself indefinitely, unwilling to admit to her mistake and bring useless consequences unto herself. But now that Dianth was in the mix, Aria's confession came swiftly. For if Anthya ever let their secret slip, whether to friends or to enemies... Tevos's heart wrenched in fear for her daughter, her darling little girl, only a few months past six years of age now, caught up in the feuds of violent mobs.

She had been furious with Aria, absolutely _furious_. Such was her anger that she seemed to slightly unsettle the normally impassive ruler when expressing it over vid comm, which may have explained her ready compliance with Tevos's scathing demands.

She needed to contact this Anthya girl. She needed to evaluate her, determine the likelihood of her valuing the information more than the benefits of being close to Aria, and see to it that she was thoroughly shielded from Aria's enemies. As soon as possible.

That evening she bid the sitter a good night and sent her home as usual before finding Dianth in her room—once a sparsely-decorated space for guests, given newfound color and life by its young resident. Dianth was presently hidden within a tented fort of pillows while engaged in conversation with the house VI, Nira, asking it an assortment of questions that could only be answered by a technological construct due to the sheer deficit of patience organic creatures possessed in comparison. Her mother's arrival overjoyed Dianth, who had a million things to tell her, but not much time to recount them since it was past her bedtime.

After persuading her to sleep Tevos sat at the edge of her bed, watching pretty blue eyes track her as she drew the covers over Dianth's small frame and rested a hand against her cheek. In Dianth's arms was faithfully clutched her favorite plush toy, a mauve three-eyed fish given charmingly simplified features. Her daughter had strange tastes in everything Tevos could imagine, from food to shows and clothing. She could hardly keep all her preferences straight, but Tevos never had the heart to dash Dianth's hopes whenever she requested something odd from her. She loved her too much; loved how optimistic and mild she was, filled to the brim with an untarnished, beaming energy that constantly amazed someone as old as her. While tucking Dianth in, Tevos asked her gently, "Do you remember your father, Dia?"

Dianth pondered a moment. "I think so. She wears white."

The singular detail made Tevos smile. "An apt description," she said. "She does. I wanted to talk to you about something, sweetheart. I think you're old enough to understand. Now, I know you don't see her often. In fact, I know you don't even see _me_ all that often, with my job being so consuming..."

"I try to see you on the news," said Dianth, "but Celsia doesn't let me watch. Even Nira doesn't let me, and she's a computer." She pouted.

"Do you know why they don't let you watch?"

Dianth shrugged her little shoulders.

"It's because there are a lot of bad stories on the news," Tevos explained. "They show terrible people and terrible accidents, and very seldom do they air happy events. Believe me, Dia, my life has been built around solving the troubles of people and not a day goes by when I don't feel a little jealous of how free you are right now. There will plenty of time to watch the news when you're older. And what I meant to tell you earlier was... I wanted to make sure you knew that no matter what happens, remember that you have parents who love you. Sometimes you may not see your father for years at a time. Sometimes you won't know why, and sometimes I just won't be able to explain the reasons. Sometimes your father and I may get along very well, and other times we may not want to see each other at all. But through everything that might confuse you, please remember this for me, Dianth. Your father cares about you, and so do I. You are the most precious thing in my life and I couldn't say this often enough. Can you remember that for me?"

She promptly nodded.

Tevos leaned in to kiss her head, then momentarily busied her hands with making sure Dianth was properly covered and comfortable. It was true. Dianth was the most precious thing in her life, rivaled by nothing less than the whole of her people. No individual compared. Not her colleagues, not Aria, not even her other relatives, if it came down to it. Dianth made everything else seem so frighteningly expendable, replaceable.

The idea that she would let one of Aria's careless indulgences threaten her safety was utterly laughable.

**. **

** -][- **

**. **

As Anthya understood it, the councilor had managed to subvert the widely-accepted boundaries demarcating Terminus territories from Council ones, and virtually subpoenaed her all the way to Thessia for some cruel type of judgement. At a family gathering, no less, placing her beneath the shrewd and conniving stares of rich matriarchs from that ancient family. Worst of all, this had been done through Aria. What sort of daunting creature held such power? To make demands of Aria, and to see them carried out by her hand swiftly and precisely without objection...

Anthya feared for herself. Feared for the independence of Aria's syndicate, and Omega by extension. Perhaps the devilish asari councilor, empowered by libraries of law books and fleets of destroyers, had found a way to discreetly control Aria to an extent none had ever achieved before. But Anthya couldn't believe it. The idea that Aria had become in any way submissive to a foreign power was from another dimension. The Aria she knew would have fought to the death before she saw herself at the mercy of a diplomat. And she sure as hell wouldn't consort with someone who would do something so horrible to her.

She was disoriented and disadvantaged from the very beginning. Anthya paused to recall how long it had been since she last set foot on Thessia. The most recent instance was a vacation celebrating her hundredth birthday—a gift from a gracious mother who had raised her on Illium since infancy. Merely thinking of her mother made Anthya melancholy, remembering all her kindness and generosity. Anthya had abandoned her along with everything else she loved one cool spring morning, after deciding to evade the law rather than facing it. How unfortunate she was, out of all the countless illicit buyers and dealers on that world, to have been caught due to a minor technicality in improper paperwork.

It was an unrivaled blessing to have met and grown close to Aria. Without her, Anthya suspected she would still be thieving pettily in Omega's alleys, living a life devoid of dignity as nothing more than typical pestilence, cursed by circumstance and ineptitude.

Two days before their departure, Anthya presented to Aria her ensemble for the gathering, seeking her approval. Despite knowing very little about the matriarchs or what their intentions for her were, she wanted to impress them and reduce the likelihood of conflict. Aria would know if her wear was appropriate, Anthya had reasoned, but all the advice she afforded her was an advisement to wear whatever Anthya felt best in, and to set aside concerns about assimilating. According to Aria, she didn't owe the matriarchs a single thing and if Councilor Tevos wanted her summoned, she would receive nothing less than the whole truth of the matter.

For a while Anthya's anxiety about the trip receded and was replaced by careful excitement, particularly during the brief voyage itself where Aria was all hers without much distraction. However, their arrival on Thessia brought a swift end to her optimism.

When Anthya looked upon the councilor for the first time—her tall, lean, and regal silhouette made exceptionally grave by the darkness of her coat contrasting the pallid guise of her ceremonial tattoos—she seemed a patent villain, and when she briefly grasped her hand in greeting her skin was as icy as the snow she and her wealthy family mummified themselves in, having deliberately timed their undead revival from many frozen tumuli to coincide with the arrival of visitors. The cruel winter, even as the season ebbed, intruded upon her beloved Queen's perfect countenance and stained the tips of her nose and crest a deeper violet. Meanwhile, the councilor seemed unaffected; preserved and intact.

What in the universe did Aria see in her? Anthya had considerable trouble imagining her sleeping with the councilor, who would only make her bed cold and hostile. She would take great pleasure in draining Aria's natural prerogative, making unfair demands of her, entwining business arrangements with sensual passion. She would complicate intimacy every step of the way, make Aria feel lonelier than she would be on her own. And Aria deserved none of that.

**. **

** -][- **

**. **

She was more or less precisely what Tevos expected. A measly third of Aria's age, she estimated, with sultry lips, pretty eyes, and an obedient disposition. Anthya was the ideal pet for her. The poor girl, wooed by the hollow promises of Omega where she had unwittingly stumbled into the lap of someone who would exploit her youthful adoration without a second thought.

Indeed, she admired Aria. Clung to her side like a willful accessory, always meeting her eyes with reverence in hers. While she watched them, Tevos had clutched her glass of white wine so tightly it nearly slipped from her grasp. It was impossible to decide who upset her more: Aria, for filling her dancer's empty head with secrets she had no right to, or Anthya, for... Tevos paused to apprehend a justifiable reason to resent her. Was it because she was carrying around dangerous knowledge like a bomb she was completely incapable of diffusing? Was it because she seemed to praise Aria unflinchingly, and lacked the capacity to hold her accountable for her more ignoble deeds? Or was it merely because Aria found her as equally desirable as Tevos, thus devaluing her company to the standards of cheap entertainment?

Regardless, each item of criticism Tevos could conjure was more a statement about herself than they were about Anthya. Had the girl even consciously done anything wrong? Tevos had been cold to Aria since she arrived at the estate, and she deserved every moment of it, but she had also been as equally cold toward Anthya as if they had somehow conspired together to design the present situation. But that wasn't reality.

Poor girl, Tevos thought again. Suddenly tangled up in the complicated lives of people far older and established than her, bearing a burden she didn't ask for. A burden so severe that it had actually brought the notion to Tevos's mind at one point, at the height of her initial and very much maternal panic, to have her disposed of. Anything to protect little Dianth, who was off playing somewhere under the supervision of her elder cousins. However, that was what separated her from Aria. Whereas Aria would end lives to resolve problems, Tevos simply ruined them, but even that approach was a last resort and therefore an extreme rarity.

In fact, it was beneficial to Tevos, that Anthya adored Aria as much as she appeared to. It lent the comfort of knowing she would never purposely bring harm to Aria or her interests, Dianth included. There still existed the hazard of her being the jealous sort who would seek to forcibly pry Tevos away from Aria, but that was something Tevos could handle. So long as Dianth was in no danger, any undesirable eccentricity or personal quarrel was of almost nonexistent concern to her.

Deciding what would be done was a relatively simple matter. Tevos needed to sit down with her in private and thoroughly discuss their predicament. Never mind her social obligation to her relatives—more than once had she used their estates to meet with Aria, and they knew she may not have come at all today without that additional objective. They would tolerate her selective attention, not just because she was family, but also because she was asari councilor, and because a foreign magnate like Aria was involved, her deep coffers always just within reach.

**. **

** -][- **

**. **

For the most part, Anthya stuck close to Aria, her sole bridge to the various strangers about her. The daughters of the present matriarchs seemed to deliberately separate themselves and mind their distance whenever Anthya drew near, perhaps highly averse to getting involved with whatever was going on. Their behavior caused Anthya to wonder if these things happened often, and if they had learned well from prior episodes.

The matriarchs, however, were a completely different story. They were insatiably curious about her, asking about her place of birth, her parentage, what her mother did, how long she had worked for Aria, and even what her favorite foods were. The more innocuous questions were primarily issued by Matriarch Nerava, the mother of most of the maidens visiting or living in the estate, and several more that were not currently present. Out of everyone, Nerava had afforded Anthya the warmest reception and made her feel significantly less of an intruder, while the other matriarchs observed and interrogated her frigidly, then stole away to speak amongst themselves in vexed tones.

There was only one other individual who did not impose harsh judgement onto Anthya. A little one, well-dressed by an affluent parent and often glimpsed running across the slushy lawn punctured by tiny springtime flowers, with an elder maiden or two slowly following. She was unafraid of Aria. While Anthya spoke with Nerava, Aria had wandered off on her own with her omni-tool glowing on her wrist, as was her habit and responsibility as their prime administrator. She spotted the little one chasing after her, who attempted to trap Aria's feet in a mound of packed, wet snow while she was distracted. Aria shook free of the rudimentary prison with ease once she was finished with her messages, then took the child's hand before leading her back to those tasked with watching her. Anthya's heart softened at the sight of Aria accompanied by a child. She was so patient and gentle with the energetic little girl, guiding her with the reliability and certitude of a natural parent.

Anthya wondered what it would be like to have a daughter with Aria. To bear her impressive genes alongside her own, intermingling their best qualities in a quintessential labor of intimacy and love, and to grant existence to an entirely new yet completely familiar person... She might have daydreamed further, had her secret ruminations not been abruptly dismantled upon seeing who the little girl was ultimately returned to.

It was the councilor, standing out on the patio while grasping the girl's hand to keep her close as she conversed with one of her relatives. On one occasion she relocated her hand to her upper back where she affectionately and reassuringly rubbed her, and when the child had something to tell her, the councilor knelt to her level to hear it, taking the chance to straighten and smooth out her jacket collar while attentively listening.

Intrigued by their relationship, which at this point was almost certainly mother-daughter, Anthya decided to put her work-acquired skills to use in confirming her hypothesis. She watched the councilor as she would a suspicious patron in Afterlife, superficially minding her own business while eavesdropping on her conversations and making every furtive glance an informative one. Anthya followed them into the dining room after the child announced she was hungry, where she witnessed the councilor, along with two matriarchs, seat themselves at a table. The girl was lifted onto the councilor's lap, elevating her to the table's height and allowing her access to her lunch: a plate of simple appetizers assembled in accordance with the typical picky eating habits of youth. While her presumed mother chatted, she grasped and delivered pieces of cheese, sliced meats, thin bread wafers, and diced fruits to her mouth, systematically and with contentment.

Later in the day, she managed to lift several additional items of interest from the councilor's discussion with Matriarch Nerava on the central mezzanine, beneath which Anthya had stood completely out of sight, braced against a wall with her very breathing attenuated for silence.

"So," said Nerava, "how have you been sleeping? Any better?"

The councilor sighed. "No. In fact, I think I've worsened considerably. I've been seeing a psychiatrist alongside my usual doctor. At this point my dosage might have to be increased. It's becoming an issue, affecting both my work and Dia. Last week she asked me to sleep in her bed with her, but I couldn't. I toss and turn too much; I would've kept her up all night. I still feel terrible about it. She's losing interest in the games she used to play with the sitter and prefers her own computer games or talking to the house VI. I'm not sure how much solitude is healthy for someone her age, and I'm not certain if virtual intelligence can substitute sentient interpersonal connection... I wish I could spend more time with her, but it's just not feasible."

"So they're... nightmares, right?"

Anthya did not hear the councilor reply, but assumed she had nodded.

"Have you ever had fever dreams, Nerava? Where all the natural geometry of the world peels away and you find yourself drowning in an impossibly primordial plane?"

"Well... nothing quite like that. But do you ever... Do you see... _them?"_

There was a long pause. When it ended, the councilor replied solemnly. Her speech seemed to extend beneath the mezzanine like a malevolent hand of dread, palpably gripping Anthya and holding her hostage until she understood precisely what Matriarch Nerava referred to.

"Almost always," she said.

**. **

** -][- **

**. **

Tevos had acted through Aria for most of the day wherever it concerned Anthya, and arranging their meeting in the quieter wing of the estate was no exception. After convincing Aria to deliver her message, Tevos additionally asked her to watch Dianth in the meantime. She expressed her agreement through silent action, not wanting Tevos to confuse her compliance with obsequiousness, since in this circumstance their interests happened to align. Due to an unfortunate but necessary rule, Aria rarely saw Dianth anymore and could reasonably be expected to take advantage of an opportunity to watch her before Tevos could change her mind, even if that duty entailed answering the prodigious volume of questions Dianth was known for posing.

Before Dianth, Tevos hadn't anticipated that Aria was at all fond of children. She was always so preoccupied by her business that children should have only posed a burden or an obstacle, but Aria thoroughly surprised her when she first held Dianth and dryly declared her intentions to steal the baby sometime during the night, take her home with her, place her on a pedestal, and raise her as royalty. She had refused to let go of her until she had to, and Dianth had remained comfortable in the steady safety of Aria's arms all the while, even when Tevos left them alone for variable spans of time.

Dianth hadn't seen her father for over a year now. When she would see her next was unknown to everyone. For all they knew, it could be five or ten years; more than enough time for Dianth to forget her. Highly aware of this probability, Aria extended her hand to Dianth when Tevos brought her by, and Dianth readily took it before unleashing her waiting queries on her little voice. Tevos heard her enthusiastically asking Aria if she knew any vorcha and how many teeth they had, but had retreated into the house before she could hear a reply.

She waited for Anthya in a parlor she once visited when she was young while seeking a reprieve from her relatives. Remotely drawing back the folding curtains over the windows let light spill over a collection of old books still sitting on tall shelves. They were heirlooms from generations prior, only surviving the ages by the integrity of expensive, imperishable materials. She leafed through several, recalling passages that once made nebulous to no sense to her as a youth, until there arrived a gentle knock at the door.

A mossy-green coat hung folded over Anthya's forearm when she entered, exposing her dress and its moderately revealing cut. Those pretty eyes found hers again, lucid with potent natural magnetism, inquiring and luring the world she perceived into the great depths of her irises. They could force upon the most stoic of minds lengthy pauses as they pondered whether these depths of her densely teemed with profundity and substance, or if she was simply abyssal. Not even someone as old and perceptive as Tevos could tell definitively.

The inexplicable mystery shrouding the dancer was inevitably what had drawn Aria to her. It was very much like her, Tevos believed, to fail to resist possessing something which eluded understanding, as if clutching it close enough would infuse herself with similarly advantageous qualities.

Anthya gave an inhibited greeting, obeyed a gesture Tevos issued to seat herself in a chair facing hers where she folded her long legs, and glanced about her surroundings with wandering interest as she waited for Tevos to settle down as well. Once she had, Tevos looked at her datapad containing her notes for topics she wished to address during the interview. She tapped a finger to the interface and illuminated the screen with amber light, preparing to open their conversation. Curiously, Anthya beat her to it before the first syllable could leave her lips.

"That child... she's your daughter?"

Every process transpiring within Tevos halted when she looked up from her datapad to regard Anthya and her goring question. She flatly responded, "Yes. Her name is Dianth."

"Dianth," Anthya repeated. She smoothed her hands over her lap and knees, repairing creases in her dress as she thought. "She's a sweet little thing. Pretty and bright. You must be proud."

Tevos nodded with a courteous but telling shallow incline of her chin. "Thank you," she said, a ghost of smile arriving at her lips. "I'm very proud of her."

She thought Anthya would be satisfied with her answer. The dancer proved her wrong when she investigated further.

"She's Aria's, isn't she?"

The expression Tevos afforded her was one of intense neutrality. She had almost viscerally recoiled, as if having ingested some toxic concoction of fear and indignity, but professed a mask of stone while addressing the suspicion. "I can't answer that," she said, colder now as her previously hospitable tone waned.

Anthya seemed to finally grasp her grave intrusion and withdrew from the topic. She did not assert herself into the conversation again, instead deferring complete control to the councilor, who couldn't have transitioned swifter to her main purpose for summoning Anthya there.

"Well," Tevos began, "I don't believe we need to redundantly establish the situation we're in, but it may be appropriate of me to state my perspective. My relationship with Aria is... complicated and unconventional. But I'm sure that's the case for most of her relationships. Although I'm not entirely familiar with how things between you are, Aria first spoke of you to me years ago. You may have anticipated some degree of animosity from me, and if you had, I'd like to relieve you of those fears now. It is not my intention to be in any way divisive, but rather cooperative. I want to find a solution or agreement that works in all of our interests."

The younger asari nodded, conveying her understanding without interrupting her.

"Now, I just want to ask you some questions to better grasp your position. First, if you would, I'd like to know when and how you came to work for Aria."

Hands fumbled in her lap for a moment as Anthya diligently gathered her words. "It was… quite some time ago, now. Over a hundred years, definitely, but I can't remember the exact date. Before Aria, I came to Omega to flee indictment on Illium. It's a long story. Most people from Omega have a story like that anyway, so I suppose it's not so special. I didn't have much when I arrived. I was a mugger as my primary source of income, and I was good at it, until I made the mistake of crossing paths with one of Aria's admin. Suffice it to say, the fight I put up wasn't enough, but I managed to wound her. Once she had me incapacitated and on the ground, she called Aria to explain why she'd be late for a briefing. That's when Aria ordered her to bring me along. She wanted to meet me, someone who had put a dent in one of her best officers. So I went—with my broken ribs and all—to Afterlife, where I sat down with Aria. She liked me, decided I could be valuable to her organization. A doctor fixed me up and I had a job. A _real_ job. I admit I left for a time. Went back home to Illium. Aria pulled some strings to get me a new name. She even arranged to have my biometric records reset. I had a good time working at a cocktail lounge for a few decades, but then the War happened, and I realized… I missed Omega. Missed my old job, missed Aria. So I came back once things settled down."

"What do you think most contributed to your decision to leave?" asked Tevos. "Were you dissatisfied with your job?"

"I—no, no, I'm not sure that was it. I think I just needed to clear my head. Things with Aria were getting a little… strange. I just needed a long vacation." Anthya was beginning to subtly fidget again. She reached out to her small handbag and sifted through its contents until she had produced a lip balm. While staring at the floor she applied with listless absence; drawing it slowly over the attractive pout of her lips as more a salve for her nerves than for her skin. Her mind was far off, trekking across some distant land in search of lost cognizance.

"Strange?" Tevos echoed, closely monitoring her actions and body language alike. "I don't want to pry overmuch, but, I have to ask if Aria treated you poorly in any way."

"No," Anthya immediately answered. She capped her lip balm and returned it to her bag. "Never. Aria was always there for me. Always willing to patiently listen and make sure I was living comfortably. Things between us were only complicated because of myself. I had these doubts, and these issues... that I needed to work out alone. And she respected that. When I told her I was leaving she was unhappy to see me go, but she never tried to stop me."

"Is your current occupation identical to the one you temporarily left behind? What does it entail, officially? And are you content there?”

"Yes. I’m very pleased by my situation. I’m an entertainer,” Anthya spoke frankly. "But... I'm sure you know, that's not all we do. There's a reason why we've all had commando training, and why we're encouraged to befriend the patrons."

Tevos made a note on her datapad, taking care to conceal the line of characters from Anthya which declared her rather harmless bearing as nothing more than an affront. "I would now ask you," she said, "if you happen to be aware of how many additional persons Aria places herself in the company of, even infrequently?"

She saw, for a fraction of a second, a flicker of perspicacity cross Anthya's features. A steady inhale came before speech, and Tevos knew that Anthya was beginning to decrypt the slew of questions. It was true; Tevos was arming herself with information. Careful insight into Aria's guarded personal life via a narrow point of entry through which she could see the actual peril her secret was in. How many had occasional access to Aria's thoughts, who were they, what were they capable of, and could Tevos do anything to mitigate their threat, or was breaking away from Aria the only practical remaining option? Aria's mental fortitude was hard and unyielding, but she was not impermeable. It was very much within the realm of possibility that Aria, or even Anthya, would accidentally let another soul know in the future, and Tevos needed to account for the risk. There was too much at stake to be at all negligent.

"I'm not the only one," said Anthya. "As far as I know, Aria likes to keep her circle of companions as small as possible. But there have been occasions when that policy proved flexible. Although the exceptions weren't just anyone—usually only other entertainers, and in one circumstance I know of, a high-ranking officer. A turian, I think. I should also point out that these few instances spanned a hundred years. Overall, Councilor, she really doesn't take much company outside the norm."

Tevos made a final note before lifting her gaze to find Anthya's. "That's all I wanted to ask," she said. "Thank you for humoring me. Now, I'd like to express my good will by allowing you to ask things of me. I'm afraid there is a great deal I cannot discuss with you, but I am willing to disclose information about my family, such as who they are and what they do, and about my general history with Aria."

Anthya seemed surprised by the offer. No sound initially left her lips when she parted them; instead she stumbled over her own breath while trying to devise a question as to not allow the singular opportunity to be wasted. "I, well... I guess I would ask how long you and Aria have... seen each other in private."

"Nearly one hundred and twenty years," said Tevos. "However, quite inconsistently."

"Because of distance?" Anthya presumed.

"Because of distance, both physical and personal," confirmed Tevos. "We're very different people with very different lives. Some time ago, there was an instance when we didn't exchange a single word over the course of eight years. I recall another time when we didn't see each other in person for thirty." Noticing the crease forming in Anthya's brow, Tevos added, "You're young. It may seem peculiar to you now, but at my age, years can have the weight of days."

"I just have one more thing to ask.”

"By all means," Tevos responded.

"She must like you a generous amount. Enough to help you so punctually, acting of out this... sense of loyalty, maybe. Respect." Anthya glanced at the coat she had lain over the arm of her chair, running a distracted hand over it. If Aria had purchased it for her, Tevos would not have been surprised. It vaguely echoed her tastes. "Does she love you?"

Tevos fatalistically smiled at the charming notion of romance. The younger asari peered wistfully at her as she awaited her answer, and it was distinctly strange to Tevos, how her expression plainly elucidated hope for an affirmative one. Perhaps, Tevos thought, Anthya simply wanted to know that Aria being in love was indeed possible and not her own doomed fantasy. One day that love might extend to herself, and in the meantime she could live optimistically, albeit vicariously, through the councilor's accomplishment.

But she was loath to dismay her. Alternatively, Tevos spoke as an eloquent councilor would, "It seems to be the case. You and I are both familiar with Aria's reticence when it comes to personal feelings. I can't speak for her, naturally, but I find it difficult to conceive that decades of positive experiences and acts of mutual protection would not constitute a significant proportion of love."

Anthya dolefully sighed, immune to the flourish of words. "Not even you..." Her voice was fragile and hushed. "I'm sorry. It was a silly question. Not at all like the ones you had for me, which were actually useful and important."

"And you don't believe your personal satisfaction is important?" Tevos asked her, managing to elicit yet another look of bemusement. "The habit of devaluing your own desires can be needlessly self-destructive. Although I know relatively little of who you are, I highly doubt you are undeserving of something as humble as reciprocated affection. Take care not to let people forget that. Including yourself."

The sentiment had caught Anthya off guard. "I..." she started, "I appreciate it." Her pretty eyes found Tevos's for a while, revealing her desire to say more. Tevos watched her expectantly until Anthya brought herself to speak again. "In the past, I desperately wanted Aria to love me. I was in awe of her. I am still in awe of her. Lately I've begun to consider that maybe she's loved me all along, and I was just looking for evidence from the wrong angle, because it's all there, in all she's done for me. I tell myself this, but—"

"You want it to be validated."

"Yes," Anthya said, visibly relieved to see that Tevos was following her winding river of consciousness. "Yes, that's precisely how I feel."

  **.**

** -][-**

**.**

Adoring lips trailed from her navel to her ribs, then further upward as she parted the lapels of the robe hiding the self-coronated monarch from her. Countless nights like this preceded the present, where Anthya’s ritual affections would culminate in slow, mindful sex where Aria was the sole recipient of her love, gladly helping her unwind from daily stresses, whether executive or strife-induced. She thought about how kissing her between her thighs so thoroughly destabilized her breathing, how Aria’s fingernails would feel in the rivets of her crest, and how the tension in her lean muscles would evaporate as surely as water on hot metal.

Replicating past experiences was well on her mind. Before she sought Aria’s direct opinion on the matter, however, she focused on undressing her. A humored smile found Anthya’s lips, and she asked Aria, quietly, if she was cold.

“I’ve been cold since we landed,” came her pointed answer.

“If you’d like, I could turn the heat on.” Upon offering, Anthya glanced about the darkness of the guest bedroom in search of a console responsible for the internal environment settings. “Or… I’m sure I can keep you warm, for the most part.” She turned back to her beautiful leader resting against silken sheets. Aria looked sublime.

After pretending to seriously consider her reply, Aria eventually decided, “I think you’ll suffice.”

Her words brought a smile to Anthya’s lips. She searched for her hands, received implicit permission to take them, and gave to Aria her body as a gift by resting her palms against her chest. Letting Aria touch and explore her however she pleased, Anthya parted her knees to straddle her hips and reached down to massage her, holding her pleasure paramount. But Aria seemed to change her mind when her hands slid down to her hips and seized her firmly, assertively.

Making Aria feel wonderful had been Anthya’s original intent, but she could not deny that the altered course excited her. Never had Anthya experienced a pleasure which rivaled having Aria inside her, always impressive by her employment of power and possession. She must have been feeling particularly generous somehow. Anthya hadn’t an inkling as to why, especially after a day spent acting on the councilor’s behest. Had she been in any other company, Aria might have been livid with embarrassment. That is, provided she was _capable_ of being embarrassed—a mood Anthya had not once witnessed over many years employed to her.

Despite Aria’s insistence that she cared not for what people thought of her, she still retained a degree of responsibility to her image as an insurmountable leader with a will of steel. Being seen with the councilor, staring sharply at her with interest and comprehension as she outlined plans for Aria to carry out, might have ruined her if such a scene was broadcast to the surly denizens of the Terminus Systems, who typically fell short of grasping the gossamer nuances of asari-style politicking and alliance forging. Nor did they care to understand. Even Anthya, born on Illium amid all its ostensible finery and underhanded scheming, had considerable difficulty overcoming her initial shock.

Anthya’s thoughts meandered back to the relationship existing between Aria and Councilor Tevos. They were both significantly older than she was, well-accustomed to the ways of the galaxy, highly self-aware, self-analytical, and instinctually knowledgable of the future. They were both smarter than her as well. Anthya felt no shame in admitting it. While she was bright, with simple perceptivity being her greatest strength, the flame of her intellect was but a candle beside the blaze Aria stoked. And the way they stood beside one another, peering pensively outward during pauses in their conversation, impressed upon Anthya a sense that the pair hadn’t adjourned at all and remained communicating with each other. Not through speech, nor gesture, nor even eye contact, but through some new miraculous force which relegated to triviality the interatomic distance transversed upon melding.

And then there was the little girl, Dianth… She was so obviously Aria’s. Others may not have noticed immediately, but Anthya looked upon Aria with great frequency and attention to minute detail. Consequently she recognized her eyes anywhere, even when they appeared in another’s visage. Dianth was the ultimate evidence attesting to the unique situation the councilor represented; a secret mountain of untapped history. One whose value was inestimable, or perhaps infinite. 

She wondered what intimacy was like between them. It had to be different than how it was between Anthya and Aria, simply because their relationships were vastly different. She momentarily imagined Aria leaning in to kiss the councilor, her attraction a questionable and clandestine vice she refused to renounce. While drifting away at the mercy of her thoughts, she finally noticed Aria’s inquisitive leer, silently questioning how it could be that she no longer monopolized Anthya’s attention.

“I was… thinking,” Anthya began to explain once she lowered her eyes to meet Aria’s again.

“About?”

For a time she was reticent, trying to frame what she meant to say. “I was wondering what it's like between you and the councilor.”

Aria didn’t so much as flinch. The only discernible response she gave was blinking once, then stilling her hands where they rested on Anthya’s waist. “Why are you concerned about her?”

“Well, I guess I’m just curious. She’s not what I expected. I thought she was going to be dismissive and condescending. Maybe she was on the surface, but when we spoke, she was nothing but graceful toward me. She had this… presence about her. I can hardly describe it. Deliberate, calm, patient. But in an officiating way. Like she knows she has all the leverage in the world and doesn’t need to demand anything.” She lifted her hands to fondly stroke the backs of Aria’s fingers. Not once did she break eye contact with her, even when inquiring on a soft voice, “She fucks you, doesn’t she?”

This time, Aria blinked twice. She inhaled steadily before saying as if to confront a challenge, “And what if she does?”

Anthya failed to contain a gentle laugh. “I don’t mean anything negative by it. She just seems like someone who can… handle you. Survive you, and still come out looking prim and proper. I can’t do that even after all this time. But if anyone could, I think it would be her. I have that feeling about her.” She gazed at Aria warmly for a while, feeling comforted by the hands clutching her bared hips, faithfully undeterred by anything she had said. Their expressed acceptance of her pondering further encouraged her. “Do you make her feel good?” asked Anthya. “Then again, maybe she wouldn’t be seeing you if you didn’t. Not just with sex—I mean ‘feel good’ in a more holistic sense.”

“Sweetheart,” said Aria. She slid her hands upward to Anthya’s back and guided her into leaning downward, far enough for Aria to utter against the side of her head, “Do I seem as though I lack in any of those areas? Is that really how you see me?” She held her in place, implementing the authoritative affection Anthya found impossible to defy.

“Of course not,” she said. Anthya shivered with anticipation when she felt Aria’s lips against her neck, followed by a touch of teeth. “But… I’m not the councilor. I can’t answer for her.”

“Then why don’t you ask her instead?”

“Maybe I will.” Anthya beheld Aria’s enigmatic expression for a time, conveying certainty in exchange. Between her legs had pooled an exquisite warmth, humming through her core as she stared at Aria’s idle hands, wishing they would sate her, and thinking about how they had done the same for the councilor in the past—that cold, collected politician who came off as though she hadn’t bedded anyone in months. And it was fairly likely, at this time, that she hadn’t. Her standards would have been impossible, especially after they were influenced by Aria. At least, Anthya believed so. “When you’re with her,” she began anew, “do you touch her like you touch me? Do you do the same things—?” The final syllable of her question distorted into a small whine when Aria slipped inside her. She could feel her stroking her lower back with a free hand, kindly relaxing her to further admit herself.

“Not everything,” Aria said. “She’s not as… adventurous, or… flexible…” Her speech fragmented due to preoccupation, lips parted with interest as she watched Anthya press herself onto her digits. “But she likes me. Enough to have made some exceptions… for a few new things.” She savored the sound of a quiet moan when she curled her fingers. “Why are you so obsessed, hmm? Do you want to sleep with her?”

Anthya drew a luscious bottom lip between her teeth, obviously affected by the suggestion. “I just met her…”

“Yet you’re still thinking about her, even now.”

“She wouldn’t want me anyway,” said Anthya. “She’s too… distinguished.” Curiously, the idea amused her. She reached down to clutch Aria’s wrist, stilling her and allowing herself the opportunity to release a sigh of laughter. Beneath her, Aria seemed to hold herself yearning at the precipice of anticipation, studying her intensely as she waited.

“Maybe I’m… _captivated_ ,” Anthya chose her words with breathless humor, “because you like her so much. It means she’s worth liking. I don’t have to guess whether she is.”

**. **

** -][- **

**. **

By far, she would have preferred sleeping to trudging down the excessively long hall in the dead of night. Aria had awoken to a message from Tevos, requesting that she meet her in the same study Anthya was sent to earlier that day, to discuss something warranting privacy.

Discreet sconces detected Aria as she passed beneath them and bathed her in a warm, dim light. A nearly inaudible hum from the countless systems spanning the house was all she heard. No more chatter, or the sound of heels clicking against the polished floor. For the duration of her short walk Aria was isolated from all life residing somewhere in the building, unbeknownst to them. Her circumstance might have been relieving had Tevos not been expecting her.

When Aria admitted herself into the room she had been invited to, she promptly noticed Tevos seated in an armchair beside a table containing a lamp fixture. Her eyes were closed and a hand was tucked beneath her jaw, keeping her upright as she fought to stay conscious.

“What is it?” Aria asked, startling Tevos awake. As she shut the door behind herself she watched Tevos shed her drowsiness and greet her with a weary, obliged stare. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m leaving early tomorrow. I need to return to the Citadel as soon as possible.” Tevos gestured to the chair opposing hers.

Aria sat down and squinted in annoyance of the lamp’s light. Her distress was noticed by Tevos, who dimmed the output to a subtler glow. But while she did so, Tevos had glanced back at her face with curious crease in her brow, and scrutinized her again once the lamp had been readjusted.

“You look a bit… flushed,” observed Tevos. “Are you—“ She stopped suddenly as realization dawned. “Were you and Anthya—“ Again she stopped, flushing a bit herself, and retracted her question. “Never mind. Forget I asked. It’s not my house, and it’s not my concern.”

The exasperation in her features told her true negative feelings on the matter, but Aria remained unruffled by the accusation. Presently, her tiredness surmounted all other qualms in importance.

“Anyway,” said Tevos, “I just wanted to talk to you about my conversation with Anthya. Regarding my general impressions and, well, opinions on how we should move forward. About what should be done.”

Aria merely continued to sit there in the armchair with her hands on the rests, looking dreary.

“While I wouldn’t expect her to hold officials of my ilk in high esteem given her allegiance to Omega, she seems a reasonable, mindful person without any ill intent. Based on what she disclosed to me, she’s been through plenty of hardship and loneliness. Until she met you.” Tevos only paused to check if Aria was actively listening. By her unwavering stare she trusted she was. “I understand that you uplifted her from poverty, gave her a home, new skills, and a stable occupation. She frequently expresses the fact of being indebted to you, and proclaims a stalwart loyalty to you and your syndicate. She loves you dearly. You’d do well to protect her; not only because she knows about us, but also because she deserves you at your best. You’ve taken advantage of her, Aria. You are her _employer_ , placing you in an inherent position of power and influence over both her heart and financial security. If I ever find that you’ve leveraged your position to control her against her will…”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Aria stiffly retaliated. “Don’t waste my time with baseless accusations. If you have any doubt of how I treat her, ask her. She’ll tell you that I do nothing but give her more and more. Same as I do for you.”

Tevos almost scoffed, but checked herself. “You take just as much as you bestow, Aria. Our relationship is hardly asymmetrical.”

“Then just what have I been doing here all day?” After rising from her chair Aria unfolded her arms and opened them, inviting Tevos to confront her directly. “I’ve been nothing but accommodating to you. Tolerant, helpful… and _patient.”_ Her tone quivered with suppressed anger on the last word of her statement, signaling the likelihood that said patience had depleted. “I dropped everything I was doing on Omega to come here. I routinely sacrifice more than you even care to recognize.”

“Yes, but you didn’t do it for me,” said Tevos. “You did it because Dianth was involved. Because you wished to rectify a mistake _you_ had made. Such is the bare minimum expected from a decent parent.”

“A _parent?”_ Aria echoed incredulously. “Is that what you think I am, now that it’s suddenly convenient for you? Do you know what she calls me? She calls me _Aria_. Because that’s what _you_ tell her. You tell her to say hello to _Aria_ , to take a walk with _Aria_ … She doesn’t even realize who I am, does she?”

“Of course she knows who you are. She’s told me herself that she remembers you.”

“You know what—fuck you, Tevos. You don’t get to decide when and where I’m her father. Either I am, or I’m not. I won’t come and go at your vagaries anymore.”

She expected Tevos to leap in defense of herself, perhaps give a scathing stab at her selfishness. But she did not. Instead Tevos lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, dropped it away, and stated with resignation, “I know I haven’t been… completely fair to you, in all this. I decide much on my own, based on what I believe to be most beneficial to Dianth. Even if it must be at our expense. Sometimes I envy the relationships my family members have. Half of them don’t usually bond out of love, but for wealth, yet still they openly show devotion to their mates each time, protecting them and including them in every aspect of their lives. Nerava on the other hand has only bonded when she was in love. I find it morbidly amusing that I have _never_ bonded because I was in love. With my politics, and with you.”

Aria resembled a statue in her inertness and singularity of focus.

Tevos continued, “Something possessed me with the notion that I could not bear a daughter if it was not with you. Some irrational, primitive emotion. Not once have I ever considered Dianth a mistake, or evocative of the slightest shade of regret. But at times such as these… I begin to think that asking you to be her father _was_ a mistake.” Immediately she added, “And not because I think you unworthy of procreating with. I don’t think that at all. However, neither of us can deny that our lives have been immeasurably complicated by this decision. And to think we once thought our affair was complicated and burdensome. It’s laughable now.” She sighed heavily. “We’re too old for children. I should’ve done this three centuries ago.”

“So, what? Are you going to ask me to stop seeing her? Is that what you want?”

“No, it’s not,” said Tevos. “Not permanently, at least. I just want to wait until Dianth is old enough to understand the gravity of—“

“I’m not talking about Dianth. I meant Anthya.”

Tevos appeared confused.

“You told me to come here because you wanted to talk about her,” Aria said. “And you had a plan, which suggests that we alter course in some way.”

“Aria, I couldn’t ask you to stop seeing her. I only wanted to inform you that you may need to rethink certain aspects of your relationship with her. She’s realized that you’re Dianth’s father.”

The certitude in Aria’s gaze abruptly darkened and peeled away. The news shouldn’t have surprised her. All along they had feared this would be the case—that Anthya would make all the right connections and deductions. Confronting pressing reality was more jarring than she expected.

“Protect her,” Tevos direly advised her. “Let no enemy close to her and give her no reason to resent you. I think, if you can do that, if you can see to it that this remains an isolated breach of confidence… I promise you, in a decade or two you may see Dianth any day of the week if you wish. Under any circumstance. You may tell her anything you like, be anyone you deem appropriate to show her. Just help me ensure that she has a healthy, safe childhood. That’s all I would ever ask of you.”

“You condemn me for being in a position where I can manipulate her, but you ask me to do it all the same…” Aria rolled her eyes but accepted the request as typical.

“It’s not manipulation, Aria. You know it isn’t.”

“If you want be effective in containing what Anthya knows, why don’t you just talk to her yourself? I won’t act as your liaison forever. I don’t have time for it. If you want to keep her quiet, let her know the stakes straight from you, the source. She’d understand more.”

“Well,” Tevos began with noticeable hesitation, “maybe I will.” The declaration sounded forced, as if momentarily caught in her throat and only emerging on her voice through sheer willpower.

Aria was determined to descry the reason why both lacked the desire to convene in person, instead opting to lean on her on every possible occasion save for the one where meeting had been a necessity. She had little concept of social awkwardness, how it might have felt to aimlessly fumble about the commissure of a branched relationship. Historically, Aria seized the attention of whoever she pleased in any circumstance, no matter their availability or whatever additional company might have been present. It only occurred to her now, after admitting to a rare and peculiar lapse of insight, that they were reluctant to deal with each other due to a preconception that the other disfavored them.


	2. Chapter 2

She hadn’t crossed paths with Councilor—no, simply Matriarch Tevos, now—in many years. Aside from those few instances where they intersected and aligned, usually pivoting on the tremendous gravity Aria exerted on their separate orbits, both were generally content with their extreme distance. But not out of coldness, never out of coldness. Out of _respect_ , Anthya rather believed. A silent, mutual respect for one another radiating wishes of wellness from one half of the galaxy to the other; benign with constant renewal. In that practice, Anthya thought of the matriarch often.

Perhaps she thought of her often because Aria thought of her often, or because Dianth was her daughter. And naturally, any daughter of Aria’s was to be kept fondly in her conscience. Just as well, her daughter’s mother, undoubtedly special to Aria in some remote but fathomless cairn of her heart, was of equivalent importance by merit of exceptional character. After all, numerous asari had reproductively propositioned Aria in the past. Anthya knew of at least a dozen, and knew not how many more had slipped her notice, but Aria never agreed. Not even once. Disdaining how proliferation might dilute her, maybe, when the advent of familial branching challenged the absoluteness, the iconic singularity, of a monarch perched on her lonely throne of fire. To Omega she was a symbol of might, not a person whose lineage could be touched and comprehended. Offspring, even her darling Liselle whose startling luminosity had long faded back into the cosmos, were not to be conceived without the greatest precautions. 

Such was the way she conducted herself, until _her._ The former councilor. Not even a decade after the galaxy narrowly avoided a mass extinction event, Anthya extrapolated from Dianth’s age, at least one of the two had already been trembling with fecund want of babies while the other was becoming highly susceptible to the idea. 

Whenever Aria visited them, Anthya sent a few gifts with her. Nothing too extravagant. A clothing article or two, or some thoughtful dinnerware, or toys for Dianth until she had left her childhood behind, to remind them that Anthya indeed thought of them. The sentiments seemed to be well-received, since more often than not, Aria returned with packages different than the ones she originally sent with her.

Sometimes they contained thank-you notes. Dianth’s letters would be scrawled in haste, the slanted and energetic characters happily wishing her the best and expressing the need to meet on Thessia soon. The presents to which these notes were attached were eclectic. One year it would be a case of assorted lotions and beauty products, and the next, an antique reproduction brass sextant, functionally identical to those used by ancient asari mariners and to be presumably displayed in her home. And she did display it, despite knowing very little about nautical navigation. Tevos’s presents tended to be more predictable and tame.

Dianth would frequently pen her mother’s responses, relaying her thanks. _My mother was elated to receive your gift_ , she would write. _She hopes you are well, and that you enjoy this set of works by Esova Jaos. She’s celebrated in the far northern latitudes of Thessia. There’s both the Kyniasian version and the common translation on each opposing page. Of course I tried to tell her not to bore you with something like this, but she wouldn’t have it. So, here it is._

When Anthya had the chance to read them, she found Jaos’s work to be poetry, primarily about nature and love. The skillful lines moved her in a way literature had not for quite some time. Heavenly idylls and heartfelt odes poured off the pages like sips of honey mead, warming the depths of her chest and endearing her to the notion of romance being inherent in all things. But she thought the gesture very peculiar. This was a lover’s gift. The intimacy present in the language and content did not befit the relationship of acquaintances, even if their particular relationship had been facilitated by a mutual intimate relation with Aria. They respected each other, Anthya reminded herself. Thought well of each other. But this insinuated something different. 

After shutting the book and placing it on her nightstand late one evening, Anthya could not help but lie awake pondering whether there was any additional meaning in the gift. Certainly it wasn’t malicious. Tevos would never deign to underhanded ridicule, especially since Anthya hadn’t wronged her. At least, she could not remember doing so. So it must have been meant positively. She supposed Tevos thought a degree of affection appropriate when conveying her gratefulness toward Anthya for having guarded her secret over a hundred years without ever faltering. Dianth was grown, currently making a name for herself in the synthetic intelligence industry. Never had she feared Terminus bounty hunters looking to abduct her and ransom her to Aria. Her childhood had been one of supreme safety, thanks to her parents and to Anthya’s unwavering discretion.

That might have explained the poetry, she thought, because it wasn’t as though Tevos had any special inclinations toward her. They didn’t see enough of one another for that to even be feasible. 

Then, a message arrived a week later. It was from _her_.

_Both Aria and my daughter have been by often as of late. Dianth berates her for not bringing you along, and I must confess my agreement. If you like, we would love to have you sometime in the near future. If you are too busy, or must decline for other reasons, I understand and would press no guilt or urgency upon you to come. Simply know, my house is open to you if you wish to join us at any time._

_Also, I hope you have found entertainment in what I last sent. I would apologize if you found the subject matter to your distaste, and would understand perfectly given the nature of the material. If I have not offended you, then I would suggest reading the original text aloud on occasion. I am inevitably biased, but, there exists a certain meter and sound to the verses that I believe is lost in translation._

_Best regards,_

_T._

Anthya was most certainly _not_ offended. Perplexed, yes, but never offended. And what perplexed her more, now, was Tevos’s sudden invitation. Anthya had never been to her home before. She had visited Dianth in the past, but that was after Dianth reached her adulthood and began living independently of her mother. What did it all mean? Had something happened, she wondered? Had something altered Tevos’s mentality, inspire her to act so forwardly? Anthya was intrigued. 

She took her advice. Over breakfast one morning she read aloud a poem in its native Kyniasian, trying her very best to pronounce the syllables correctly, but the abundant punctuation and character modifications were cumbersome to learn. In the end, Anthya defaulted to tasking a home VI with reading the poems aloud. Spoken on a voice that actually did the language justice, Anthya immediately noticed the discrepancy Tevos had pointed out to her. It sounded even more beautiful than the translation had, like spoken song or hallowed prayer. She followed along with the translation as she tried to memorize the original versions of several, if only to understand how Tevos experienced them, how her fluency elevated the pleasure of reading. The further she ventured into the collection, the more favorably disposed she became to Tevos and her offer. Immersing herself in the matriarch’s native language made her feel inexplicably closer to her, as if they had shared a dream between them exclusively, a single point of vantage at which their universes collided in a glance. 

After Anthya accepted Tevos’s offer to visit, she planned her wardrobe for the several days she would spend there in advance, fretted over whether she should buy any wine or liquor, and opened her small drawer of perfumes to sample each and decide which was most appealing to pack. All to impress Tevos, a member of unwed Thessian matriarchy who had been so kind and gracious by welcoming Anthya into her home, amid her personal family, without qualm. 

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos hadn’t considered the implications of her gift until she had drafted her invitation to Anthya. She had read Jaos recently and assumed her own enjoyment of the collection would prove universal. Yet another decision contrived in the gelatinous fog of her thoughts. It was incredibly fortunate that Anthya had _not_ received the gift poorly, evidenced by her acceptance of the invitation. If she hadn’t, Tevos feared it would have only honed the stress wedging between herself and Aria. With Anthya around, it was possible that her company would bridge them, bridge all of them, where Tevos had been failing.

Her house felt palatial whenever she was alone. Sometimes the silent empty space unnerved her. She perceived the wide stoic walls, the tall curved window panes stretching to cloud-marbled skies, and the guest rooms left uninhabited for months, as reflective of her interpersonal capacity or lack thereof, framing her as malfunctional. With Dianth, Aria, and Anthya drifting in and out, the excess would finally recede and help her fashion a home out of a previously hollow domicile. 

That was what matriarchs were supposed to do, she thought. Serve as the nucleus of a family and broader community, providing open doors and open forum to all who sought her guidance. Hosting parties, fondly recalling bondmates, and holding the babies of many returning daughters. Well, Tevos wryly reassured herself, she had hosted a party within the last year—the one Dianth and Sina ruined with their ridiculous quarrels. Otherwise, there were no babies in need of holding, and while Aria was the closest thing to a bondmate Tevos ever had, they never so much as formally declared themselves a couple. They were _something_ , that much was agreed upon, but bonding remained a reverie of comically meager plausibility. She loved her, missed her, and cared deeply for her well-being, but Tevos had no intentions of jeopardizing her venerated position with a controversial marriage. That is, assuming Aria would even say yes in the first place, which was yet another daydream to be permanently shelved for its absurdity.

It was strange that Tevos so prized her seat on the council of Asari High Command, immediately awarded her not a day after her public announcement that she would not be running for a third term as asari councilor, when this permutation of politicking caused her substantial grief. As councilor she had once been, effectually, the hand of the matriarchy; heeding popular asari sentiment and incorporating it into her policy, representing faithfully and mindfully. Her government’s pressure had been constant, but manageable. She had only recently found it peculiar how _exerting_ said pressure was somehow far more detrimental to her health than enduring it. 

The last time she had been intimate with Aria, she made the observation that Tevos was thinning again. A sign of stress, unsurprising yet entirely ironic to Tevos, who had never felt heavier in her life insofar as the holistic weight of both body and psyche was concerned. Her corporeal mass had therefore been displaced to where it now fed in secret a tumorous growth of melancholy. She had not lied with Aria since, not beyond sharing her bed when she stayed.  

When things were comfortable between them, Aria arranged to visit every other month at the most frequent, and thrice a year at the most infrequent. That alone was an undisguised conveyance of attachment, and it was profoundly satisfying to Tevos to maintain a lasting relationship with the father of her daughter, and just as importantly, one of the closest friends and lovers she had ever taken. It was a tremendous shame to watch their desires and intentions for each other gradually diverge, where Tevos craved devoted companionship in the final stage of her life while Aria stayed Aria—moved to the ebbing of her own nomadic, hedonist heart, arriving and departing as it pleased her. Tevos didn’t fault her for it. It was partly why she loved her, but it was also partly why she was starting to feel so dismal. 

In the days leading up to Anthya’s planned visit, Tevos sent Dianth and her peculiar friend on an errand to a preferred nearby grocer, where she had them purchase the components for several future dinners. Unsurprisingly, Dianth returned with more items than Tevos originally listed. A guest room was then prepared, given a cozier atmosphere by moving a few potted plants and chairs into the bare corners, leaving a stack of assorted sheets at the foot of the bed, and stocking the small adjoined bathroom with a few bath products. 

Tevos was disheartened to realize that in her quest to make a home out of her house, she had merely made a hotel.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The Serrice house was absolutely glamorous. Perched on a verdant hill like a monument to architectural glory; all glass and metal and liquid elegance. As Anthya strode up a driveway winding serpentine to the porch steps, she could see what lied beyond the property on the other side of the hill. A lovely view of the city braced against cheerful blue skies, and at their closest proximity, a park cloven by a bridged aqueduct where water ran like molten crystal glittering in the sun. 

Dianth was waiting at the door when Anthya reached the peak of the steps. She was tall and charming and as industrious as ever, beaming like a lighthouse and smiling like Aria. They embraced and kissed each other on the cheek before Anthya was led into the house, where her presence was announced at the top of Dianth’s enthusiastic voice. Tevos came down from the second floor within a minute’s time, dressed as if there were important dignitaries to meet, and greeted Anthya with a briskness of manner that heavily implied preoccupation. Upon insisting that Dianth help move her luggage into the house, Anthya contrarily insisted that she needed no assistance, but Tevos could not be dissuaded. So Dianth accompanied her to the rented car parked outside, however when they returned Dianth was only carrying a single suitcase not weighing more than a folded lawn chair. Anthya had everything else biotically trailing behind her with minimal effort, all the way to the guest room Tevos led them into.

Dianth disappeared back into the house while Anthya organized her luggage and Tevos indicated the amenities available to her along with a general description of the house’s layout. She sounded and looked tired, as if having arisen from some hardship contracted during the night. At the first pause in her speech, Anthya requested Aria’s whereabouts. 

“She’s slept in,” Tevos replied. She opened the blinds masking the room’s window, letting natural light spill onto their bodies in equally-spaced ribs. “I’m sure she’ll be up soon.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes,” said Tevos. Her attention was upon her garden just beyond the pane. Broad leaves swayed and bowed in the morning breeze, occasionally squeaking as they rubbed against the polished sides of the house. She folded her arms across her middle.

“She isn’t sick, is she?”

Tevos shook her head. “No. But last night was… unkind to her.” She hesitated before saying more, and only did so after she turned to peer over her shoulder at Anthya. “Do you know the standard calendar day?”

“Of course. It’s—“ Anthya abruptly stopped upon associating the day with something troubling. “Oh no,” she breathed, then glanced about herself as if trying to discern what to do. “I… I completely forgot. I can’t believe I forgot… How could I forget? Goddess, why didn’t Aria say anything when I told her my plans? We could have rescheduled, we could have—“

“She didn’t say anything because it was not supposed to be an issue.” Reorienting herself to face Anthya directly, Tevos allowed her arms to slide to her sides. “But it was, and that’s all right. Some say the optimal place to be distraught is in the company of those who care for you, who will go to great lengths to comfort you. Which is also why I don’t think you being here is in any way inflammatory. No, on the contrary I think you being here will be an asset to her health. Aria needs positive diversion as much as she needs proper closure. Hopefully Dianth can provide the latter today when they leave for Armali.”

“To see… where she’s…?”

Tevos gave a shallow nod. “The cliffs, I’m told. An isolated plot overlooking the beach.”

Unsure of what to say, Anthya lowered herself to sit at the edge of the bed, highly contemplative and concerned. After noticing how she was inclined to grieve in Aria’s stead, Tevos apologized for failing to provide a more hospitable reception. She hadn’t meant to cause her distress, but she had asked a question and Tevos could not bear to deceive her. Anthya appreciated her honesty. When Tevos offered her something to drink, she accepted, and waited in the dining room where she peered out of the enormous glass wall at the garden, bursting with leaves and ferns and flowers whose wildness lent character to their growth, but were diligently kept in check so not a single climbing specimen cleared the high fence or spilled onto the deck.

When Tevos returned to slip into her hand a rounded glass of dilute berry juice and ice, Anthya thanked her and beheld her a moment. Her white ceremonial tattoos were fading. Anthya knew enough of asari councilor tradition to know Tevos was permitted to keep and maintain them for the rest of her life if she chose. She wondered if Tevos planned to have them restored to their former vivacity soon, and how painful it had been upon initially receiving them. Anthya herself once commissioned a few facial tattoos when she was younger: thin waving lines of dots that ran along her crest from her cheekbones, a simple yet cunning design. After her appointment at the Illium parlor she had hurt for days and could only sleep with her face aimed at the ceiling while the tips of her crest bent uncomfortably into the pillow from the weight of her head. She couldn’t imagine the torment of having her face, neck, and back all aflame at once, since ancient custom made a _point_ of bestowing the councilor’s tattoos within a single day, to the effect of self-sacrifice and devotion. Tevos must have been miserable, and would be again if she decided to revitalize them.

Tevos retreated back into the kitchen. With her attention upon the garden again, Anthya brought the glass to her lips and was met with a delicate, cool sweetness. She heard footfalls and turned to see Aria stepping into view while smoothing out her unusually modest and somber attire. Even her shoes lacked appreciable elevation, bringing her height to that of Dianth, who appeared shortly after Aria with a light jacket slung over her shoulder. Before Anthya could greet her, Aria approached her by the window, leaned in close, and quietly asked her, “If I’m not here for the rest of today and possibly part of tomorrow, will you be all right with Tevos?”

“Of course,” she replied. Seeing Aria fiddle with her collar, Anthya replaced her hands with her own and achieved what Aria could not for lack of sight. “If this is something that can do you well, bring you some peace of mind… I would be the first to encourage you to go.”

“There’s no guarantee of that. But it’s a hell of a lot better than moping and doing nothing about it. I may be a lot of things but I’m not fucking pathetic.”

Anthya placed a hand on her cheek in sympathy. “Mourning isn’t pathetic,” she whispered. 

Her hand was removed, not with hostility, but with some residual perturbation. “It can be if you’ve never had the stomach for it.”

The pair drew apart when they heard Dianth informing Tevos that they were due for departure now. Her mother promptly rejoined them to say goodbye. She kissed Dianth and advised her to be careful and prudent, then extended the same gesture to Aria. Anthya essentially mimicked her. Habit drove her to kiss them precisely where Tevos had, laying one fond caress atop the previous, and when the pair had passed through the front door to leave the brightly-lit foyer in silence, the social discomfort arising from their solitude seemed to palpably strangle Anthya as smoke would, collecting in her lungs and diffusing through her blood so swiftly her calves twitched with an instinct to conceal herself in the furthest corner of the house. She remembered she was still holding the drink Tevos prepared for her. Its chill wetted the glass and her fingers. 

“Again, I apologize.” Tevos’s statement banished all flightiness and anchored her to the floor. “We certainly didn’t plan for this, but since Aria is scheduled to return to Sahrabarik by the end of the week, they would have to wait months before the next opportunity to go to Armali. Dianth can rarely spare time during the week. Her lab work is, as I understand it, quite intensive.”

“I don’t mind. I really don’t.” Anthya glanced upward at the skylight, catching the white tail of a cloud sailing by before her gaze dropped to the magenta shivering in her glass. “All that matters to me is that you, Aria, and Dianth are well. I don’t consider myself inconvenienced. In fact, I may be inconveniencing _you._ Now you have a guest to singlehandedly entertain—one you’re not very familiar with.”

“Perhaps, then, I have made a mistake in not actively endeavoring to _be_ more familiar.” Tevos afforded her a rueful smile. She and Anthya migrated back into the living room. “Despite my credentials and experience, I confess I’ve never been as interpersonally involved as the majority of my colleagues. My tendency is to be singular and private. I’m telling you this because I’d like you to know that neglecting to reach out to you over these many years was never out of disdain. But I’m not asserting this isn’t a fault of mine. It is.”

“Counc— I mean, Matriarch Tevos—“

Tevos lifted a mild hand to stop her. “Please. Formalities may make me even less personable.” 

“Then, Tevos.”

She nodded once.

“Overextending yourself for my sake isn’t necessary,” said Anthya. “You have a lovely home. Staying here is a luxury and you have already proven your friendship to me. You don’t need to put yourself through stresses to ensure I don’t take offense. Because I never did. I don’t think I will. And I can easily respect your nature, your tendency. We’re all eccentric somehow.” Seeing the concern marring Tevos’s features, Anthya added, “Well… I’ve been obsessively thinking about taking a walk through your garden. It’s beautiful. May I?”

For a second, Tevos appeared taken aback by Anthya’s resolution, but recovered with enough grace to challenge the idea that she had been fazed at all. “By all means,” she said. 

But upon emerging from the house and enveloping herself with sunlit verdancy, Anthya still felt disquieted. Although she had been truthful when expressing her gratitude, she had conveniently omitted the fact that being around Tevos felt peculiar and invasive. Every time they met Anthya could not stand against the abrupt displacement she experienced. She felt forced to the outskirts of a relationship in which she did not belong, due to relative youth and lack of wisdom and overall inadequacy. Especially now, seeing how Tevos and Dianth—the makeshift family Aria had cobbled together—mended her when she ailed like all creatures did sometimes. What was Anthya then to Aria but a favorite dessert, while Tevos stimulated her mentally and emotionally, fulfilled her to an extent where procreation had become a prominent, pressing incentive?

Anthya knew why, knew _how_. Just by sending her poetry Tevos had piqued her curiosity and admiration. Tevos, having garnered the support of the millions— _billions_ —who elected her as the official voice of the asari race. Who had appeared on the covers of more than a dozen publications where her intelligent, collected poise was accentuated in glossy splendor. Who had pulled Aria’s heart right out of her chest with enough finesse to reduce the Queen’s fabled destruction of one of the Patriarch’s hearts to a clumsy effort. And Tevos claimed to not be _personable?_ What an unreasonable thing for her to say. It was nearly deceptive. 

Meanwhile Anthya was neither an individual of political clout nor doted upon by Aria enough to bear her any daughters, and Goddess knew she had wanted them. This curious pining had made Anthya certain of the arrival of her matron stage. She had never before pondered whether or not she ultimately wanted children, electing to spend her first centuries of life completely free of the thought until the urge suddenly grasped her. Now, she wasn’t sure of what she wanted. And while standing in the shadow cast by someone of Tevos’s caliber, she wasn’t even sure of her ability to choose. What did Aria need of her when she had someone like Tevos? Someone so educated, capable, and exquisite? They must have been a wonderful couple, lacking in nothing but the liberty to be seen.

She strode along the yard’s border of vines and ferns quivering in a light breeze, discontented and feeling a bit impotent. The garden was so salutary and blithe. It brimmed with manicured life and the air held a dainty sweetness from the flowers. The grass, watered just that morning to a very specific, optimal moisture, was soft enough to tread upon barefooted. There was nothing like this on Omega. Only a handful of synthetic nurseries who displayed and sold trees from endless rows of cloned specimens rising erect from their individual planters. 

Anthya entertained a transient wish to reside here permanently beneath the trees and a blue sky, where abundant sunlight instead of lamps kept her healthy and the element zero was inherent in the water and not daily capsule pills.

She sat down at a shaded outdoor table for a while to light a cigarette and finish her drink, then brought her empty glass back into the house and decided it would be more appropriate to socialize with Tevos than feed their personal distance. If she did not establish a favorable connection now, they could anticipate a very uncomfortable dinner tonight and Anthya would not abide the notion. 

Seeking her out was initially a futile effort. The house was large, but not enormous, and its architecture was beholden to art to a degree that terminated each hallway or bend with a visually pleasing yet nonintuitive area. There were abundant windows, skylights, and polished surfaces. Plants and curving walls, soft or somber or creamy soothing colors. A few minutes elapsed before Anthya found Tevos in an upstairs lounge, stopping in the bare doorway arch to see her seated before an active vid projection. The matriarch looked pensive. She didn’t even notice Anthya until after the younger asari had registered the contents of the vid.

There was Aria. She was standing, holding a baby Dianth and faintly smiling. Dianth was so small, her bright blue eyes occasionally wandering about different objects and her parents’ faces as Aria glowed with pride. She said something to the baby that Anthya didn’t catch, but her tone was nearly reverential. The moment the picture transitioned to the image of a slightly older Dianth sitting up in her crib, Tevos regarded Anthya and paused the vid.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Anthya quickly said, contrite for having apparently surprised her. “Am I intruding? I’m sorry.”

“Um—no.” Tevos’s reply was cautious and staggered. “It’s all right. I was just… reminiscing, I suppose.”

“Well, I’ll leave you be, then. I don’t want to interrupt.” She took a retreating step back, but halted when Tevos spoke again.

“No, no,” she said. “I mean to say, it’s not necessary. You may stay if you wish. I don’t mind.”

Anthya stood motionless and silent for nearly five seconds before responding, “You’re sure?”

A small nod was given. “I’m sure.”

Her lingering hesitance kept Anthya still for just a short while before she approached the sofa containing the matriarch and sat down with her, folding her hands in her lap as Tevos resumed the vid. Dianth, animated anew, was smiling; happy to see whoever filmed her. 

“She’s adorable,” Anthya remarked, keeping her voice low and soft. She saw Tevos entering the frame of the vid now, dressed in a night robe and lovingly greeting Dianth by saying, _“Hello my darling, my beautiful girl!”_ as she reached over the railing and lifted the baby into her arms. She kissed her daughter’s cheek and glanced at the source of the vid, wry and pleased at once. 

The next segment of the vid was taken discreetly through an ajar door at a slight distance, but Anthya could easily identify the outlines of Dianth and Aria sitting on the floor together, where the toddler was coloring on a piece of paper. Dianth selected from her messy pile of colors a stout green pencil and offered it to her father, who received it. After a moment of consideration wherein Aria idly turned the pencil over between her fingers, she applied its tip to the page and made her contribution. Tevos was heard trying not to laugh, prompting Aria to look toward the space between the door and the wall and say, _“Really?”_

Anthya laughed as Tevos had in the past, but when she glanced over at the matriarch presently beside her, she found something amiss. Although Tevos’s lips were subtly curved by a smile, her eyes shimmered with poignance. She looked so sad, and it was not the transient sadness befalling an hour or a day. There was something ancient about it, and constant, as if it had always been there in deep substrata waiting for the earth to slip and reveal it. Anthya’s mirth evaporated as rapidly as it had arrived and she found herself watching Tevos for longer than she meant to, shocked from not knowing where in the universe such sadness came from when Tevos’s life was filled with wealth, family, and plenty of time for pleasure. 

Upon noticing Anthya’s scrutiny, Tevos quietly explained her distress. “Last night was the second time I have ever seen Aria weep. And both times were for the same reason: Liselle. She drank so much she could barely walk and I had to help her up the stairs. I watched her lie in bed. She was in so much pain… The same pain as the first time, the sort she doesn’t know what to do with, how to channel it or express it when there are no targets for anger. She rambles. She frantically claws for a solution where there are none. This sense of powerlessness which she never has to otherwise contend with, I think, is what pushes her over into despair. I couldn’t bear to see her like that, so I melded with her, hoping I could share the burden somehow. To help her not be so alone in her suffering.”

Anthya listened attentively, watching Tevos delicately wring her slender hands as she clutched in faltering desperation her manner of grace and stoicism. Moving across the projection now was Dianth, not yet of school age, running and laughing as her sitter chased her through a Citadel park. 

“It was unlike any pain I’ve ever experienced in my life,” Tevos continued. “As for the death of my father, my sister, my mother, even the War losses, and Thessia nearly falling… these things deeply affected me, but there was something incredibly visceral and organismal about Aria’s pain. It was a violent illness, churning thickly in my stomach as if I had ingested tar. It was poison. A swift rot of the heart, leaving behind panic and anguish. The pain seemed physical, _was_ physical. I wept with her because in that moment I too was Aria, and I too had lost my daughter.”

Anthya knew about Liselle and knew about Aria’s rare bouts of desolation, but these specific phantoms of the past had been highly privatized to the point of repression. As close as she was to Aria, Anthya had never accessed them and likely never would. Driven by empathy, she laid a hand on Tevos’s sleeved forearm. She was relieved to not feel her reactively stiffen. The gesture may have been impulsive, but Anthya simply couldn’t imagine what she and Aria had endured the previous night, and felt compelled to provide whatever amount of comfort was needed even at the risk of overestimation.

“It made me think,” said Tevos. “Aria has always possessed more inherent emotional constitution than myself. She can remain as impassive as stone under extreme duress and even when withdrawing into fury she retains both focus and judgmental fidelity. Considering this, I fear that if I ever lost Dianth, it would likely kill me.” Anthya was admittedly surprised when Tevos laid her free hand atop the one Anthya touched her with, temporarily. Tevos glanced at her then away, perhaps not wanting her to see her eyes. “And I can’t help but feel some guilt for inadvertently contributing to Aria’s stresses. Just a few days ago I—well, I confessed to her my, ah, lapse in exclusivity, although this is not a set parameter between us, and… it nevertheless upset her.”

“Aria _can_ be jealous at times,” Anthya softly murmured, but the remark had been made in the absence of thoughtfulness. She was too disquieted by Tevos developing affections for another, despite Aria’s obvious investment in her, to say anything worthwhile. How it could be? She and Aria had seemed so ideal together, an unfathomably powerful union that could shape history according to their collaborative design. Knowing they were having problems unsettled Anthya, made her feel queasy.

Tevos drew in a measured breath. “I apologize. I shouldn’t be weighing you down with my problems. All this within two hours. I’m a rather dreadful host, aren’t I?”

“You said it yourself,” Anthya reminded her. “This wasn’t supposed to be an issue. But it was, and that’s all right. Because you’re in the company of people who give a damn.”

Having her words turned against her brought a faint smile to Tevos’s lips. “I suppose you have a point. I’m greatly appreciative.”

“So, did you want to talk about it?” Seeing the light of confusion in her eyes, Anthya clarified. “I mean, I get the sense of something… well, being wrong. In general. If I’m prying, please let me know. But I’m more than happy to listen if you want.”

Tevos averted her eyes for a time, instead directed them toward the vid. Dianth’s first day of school. Ten years old and gleeful in her new outfit and a cute little backpack. She tried to fill it with every drawing pencil she owned before it was time to leave. Anthya awaited a reply with apprehension as the matriarch carefully predicted whether discussing her private troubles would ultimately benefit them. 

“I… usually only speak of these things with my relative, Nerava.” Tevos reunited her gaze with Anthya’s. Even in her vulnerability, she peered at her with dignity that made Anthya’s chest feel constrained. “I began to when I had Dianth. Nerava has many daughters and proved an invaluable source of experienced advice whenever I needed it, which was admittedly often. I didn’t want to become my mother, who I do in fact resemble most in manner. I wanted to be better for Dianth. It was Nerava who I confided in when I decided that Aria needed to distance herself from Dianth for the duration of her childhood. The guilt for depriving her access to her daughter haunts me to this day, but it was necessary. Dianth needed normal role models and it was too risky to entrust a child with our secret. Aria became a footnote for years and only saw her on rare occasion. She was just a rumor, the shallow promise of having a father somewhere. I believe it’s partly what estranged us.”

“You think you’re estranged?” asked Anthya. “But Aria sees you so regularly.”

“When our affair began many years ago, being with her felt like a dream. Most relationships unfold this way, a period of bliss followed by one of acclimation, where the surrealism recedes so you may examine the reality of the coupling. Who you are in relation to one another, your compatibility, your sustainability. Your personal plans and desires. When the time came, we weighed the inconveniences of prolonging our affair against the positives and decided it was worthwhile—but only sometimes, when opportunity arose. I thought we would eventually burn out. Then there was the war, and Dianth, and the feeling was back as if it had never left. The joy and optimism that carries you away with the idea of someone. Aria was such a good father to her, always wanting to see her and hold her. I quickly became enamored with her all over again. But as more time passed and circumstances evolved, I began drawing the same conclusions I did last time. Our expectations of one another are not being met. What am I to Aria? Am I merely her vacation destination? What am I now to anyone, truly? Dianth is mature and no longer depends on me. I have gone from public servant to distant orchestrator. Within my family I’ve converted from progressive nonconformist to a conservationist of tired, old ways. I hide away in this empty house to pore over my own business and I do not feel overly compelled to partake in social events. As a matriarch, I am defunct.”

“You really feel that way? As though you don’t serve a noteworthy purpose anymore?”

“I believe so,” Tevos replied. “It’s been suggested to me that these feelings stem from… post-wartime trauma, but I find it dubious. I think it’s perfectly immanent.”

“Tevos…” The younger asari canted her head. “I just… find it incredibly unbelievable that you think of yourself this way. It doesn’t matter if you’re not councilor anymore. People still look up to you and listen to you whenever you debate policy with the matriarchy. I see it all happening on imported news, how the closely public watches and gives your opinion immense credence. Your family celebrates you, speaks highly of your intelligence and dedication whenever you’re mentioned. And Dianth, she _adores_ you. Thinks you’re a model of excellence, and she’s always the first one to light up her biotics when someone speaks ill of you. She’s her mother’s girl to the _death_. And there’s Aria, too. Sometimes I see you in her thoughts.” Her speech slowed as she pondered her next words. She would not inform Tevos how she still occasionally glimpsed her at the height of the pleasure she shared with Aria, when thoughts raced and unfurled wildly and unpredictably, but she knew how to convey its sentiment. “I don’t know everything about you two. I think it will be always be something of a mystery to me, just outside my grasp. But I do know that she likes you more than what she knows to do with. She’s aloof and remote and insists she needs no one and curses the idea of interdependence, but I do get the sense that you mean a great deal to her. And you know what—I think… I think it scares her. I really do. And do you know what I think of you? All these years you’ve treated me with kindness and never once tried to belittle me for my profession or what I am to Aria. To me, you're this wise, patient, and beautiful figure watching over our people from the other side of the galaxy, someone who makes asari proud to be asari. And I think everyone who knows you would be lesser if they didn’t.”

The contemplative stare she and Tevos exchanged ended when Anthya cautiously leaned in and drew her arm upward and around Tevos’s shoulders in a brief embrace, as if it would serve as a defining item of punctuation to verify her sincerity. Tevos permitted her, although she remained perpetually on edge, braced against her own will.

Her perfume smelled like thousands of credits, like vaporous gold from a bottle. Warm flesh and bone was felt beneath designer clothes whose artisanal embroidered tag Anthya spied when the back of the collar wrinkled from her touch and exposed the interior. She was just like Aria. Veneered in wealth, in pocket, age, and experience. 

Anthya wondered who hugged Tevos, and how often. Her relatives, four times a year. Dianth, a few times each month. Did Aria do so as well? She could not guess. 

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

She counted Anthya’s company as fortunate. Without her, Tevos might have spent the day in ill spirits, weeping alone with the financial fruitfulness of her long life enveloping her, ridiculing her suffering when the relative suffering of other beings in the galaxy out-scaled hers tenfold. Anthya listened and legitimized her woes. Made it all seem less abstract and ungraspable. Her problems, though borne from the mind, were still real problems. Measurable ones that impaired her ability to live freely, but ones that could be mitigated with attentive care. 

Tevos, with some abashment, realized in greater detail why she had sent Anthya the poetry collection without tuning into its potential interpretations. She had been reading it recently for the same reason she always delved into poetry: Tevos had been feeling starved of love. She obtained the familial variety of it in satisfactory doses, but romance was scarce. Aria was concentrated sex and adventure, titillating without interruption, and that in itself was source of great joy and preoccupation in her life, but upon reaching into the amalgam of passion they brewed together in failed search of romantic affection, Tevos had attempted to supplement the deficiency with literary accounts of others who had encountered it. Fossilized love, she thought old poems. Droplets of hard amber containing tiny specimens of ages prior, alien yet wholly contemporary in how creatures sometimes conserved very specific desires over millennia. Despondency only fell upon her like a dark silent curtain when she recalled the disparity between the poems and her own situation. 

After reading Jaos’s works, Tevos had subconsciously presumed Anthya’s experience with Aria paralleled hers and she would find the works similarly therapeutic. In retrospect, that did not seem to be the case. She was embarrassed to have ever thought as much.

She didn’t want to think of Aria anymore. At least, not for the day. There would be plenty of time to think about her when she and Dianth returned. Doing so now only made her feel weary and vacant. 

Anthya, as perceptive as she was, had sensed Tevos’s need for distraction. She suggested they find a worthwhile activity in the city, something with guaranteed fresh air and enlightenment. Somewhere with new things to see or learn. Serrice and Vesperia combined surely boasted many locations fitting this criteria, Anthya had reasoned. But she would defer the final decision to Tevos, who then, in epiphany, realized she had never seen in person the orchards Vesperia was famous for. 

The younger asari’s spontaneity saw them out of the house, Tevos remaining uncertain of the trip, and into the car Anthya had rented. Anthya stayed bright the whole way. Filling the emptiness between them with anecdote and question, speaking of mundanities with an appreciation for incidental detail Tevos had not seen in any other soul aside from Nerava. She asked why Tevos was not accompanied by commandos or other guards anymore. Tevos answered that she had spent so much time under the sharp eyes of her personal security—two _centuries_ , she emphasized—she had found the heightened risk of assault preferable to another minute in their cage. That made Anthya laugh. 

The orchards of Vesperia rose from fertile land into the sky, grown in towering structures of glass where all was blue and green with life. They were mazes of irrigation and sprinklers, brilliant lamps, and entire floors that would rotate and periodically extend outward like forested shelves to capture white sunlight, and horizontal transit rails to augment the verticality provided by an elevator system. Machines and arborists worked in tandem, immune to the puzzling geometry enclosing them. Expectedly, visitors to the orchard were not typical. A receptionist stationed in the main offices was prepared to turn them toward a tiny public ground-level garden and a gift shop kiosk until she realized who Tevos was. Tevos had predicted this outcome despite being unable to decipher her privilege as being endowed through matriarchy or her previous office. Either way, it was safe to assume that most businesses and bodies saw her as a prospective investor or merely one whose influential discourse might shape the future climate for their particular industry. The receptionist arranged for them an impromptu tour given by one of the senior botanists, a matron with shoes muddy with wet loam and dirt underneath her fingernails, who was so knowledgeable about plant biology that Tevos was unsure if they were even speaking the same language. 

Eventually they were allowed to explore the ground level on their own. Tevos strode between rows of healthy trees with her hands folded neatly behind her back, abreast with Anthya as she glanced about the canopy of glossy leaves and branches beginning to swell and weigh with the burden of nascent fruit. The air was cool with controlled mist and the hills stretched beyond the horizon, perfectly emerald between the glass buildings illusorily breaching the lowest cotton clouds. Only dirt and the occasional insect penetrated her fantasy. 

Anthya was quiet for a time, therefore both were quiet. Until she posed an unusual query. Turning to her, Anthya asked, “What was it like, being pregnant?”

Tevos smiled from surprise and humor equally. “Well…” She gathered her thoughts. “Since Dianth was so wanted, it was exciting. Nerve-wracking too, admittedly. I hadn’t the faintest idea of what I was doing. I consumed many books on the topic while staving off inquisitive media and colleagues. I watched my diet even more stringently than usual, affording myself absolutely no leniency. Toward the end I was frequently exhausted. And when Dianth was born, she bewildered me. I was suddenly given a separate person after accustoming myself to sharing a single body with her. She was a stranger back then. I didn’t know who she was, who she’d grow up to be. I hoped she would be better than myself and hoped she wouldn’t be too much like her father either, but I knew I’d love her regardless of the outcome.”

Her answered visibly pleased Anthya. “You know… I’ve been having this feeling lately. This strong, unexplainable desire to have a daughter. Is it normal? Because of it I’m fairly comfortable with designating myself a matron. I mean, I am nearing four hundred.”

“It happens, to some people,” said Tevos. “Obviously I was not one of them. At least not until very late in life, and by then perhaps my biological incentive gained a more philosophical edge. I thought my life severely lacking in the particular experience of maternity. A daughter would bring me fulfillment and happiness, I believed. As for yourself, has it emerged from contemplation or from elsewhere?”

“I’m not sure,” Anthya replied. “Elsewhere, I think. Somewhere too base for me to understand. There’s hardly a reason. I just keep coming back to the thought.”

“It may be important to distinguish between whether you want a daughter or want to be pregnant,” said Tevos. They stopped in the middle of the path between the orchard rows to face one another. “Because your life could be irreversibly convoluted in a way you may not be prepared for, if you act upon the latter without consideration for the former. I don’t know if you’ve thought this already. If you have, you’re in a good position. If not, I’d urge you to. Since, well… _she_ informed me about this.”

Tevos had originally assured herself that she would not think of Aria while out today, but there she was again, effortlessly inserting herself into nearly every conversation she had with Anthya even when their topics deliberately avoided her. Well, thought Tevos, Aria _was_ the most significant thing they had in common. She wished it were not the case, but for now it was, unless they communicated enough to identify additional shared interests. 

Aria had made such a mess of her life. Barged in without a care and never left.

“What did she tell you?” Anthya’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as they resumed walking the path at a slow pace.

“Not too much,” said Tevos. “But a few items regarding her opinion may be of great interest to you. She told me you asked her what she’d think, hypothetically, if you were to request a daughter from her. Her initial response was not in favor of the idea, but she recently disclosed to me that she was beginning to reconsider her stance. If this were old Thessia, she said, someone of her age and status would have mothered at least half a dozen daughters and fathered several dozen more by now. Parenting establishes connections, earns gifts and loyalty, even upfront dowries upon agreeing to father. And if I have accurately surmised the competition that may arise from this, the offers submitted to her could include  _substantial_ sums, treaties, vessels, and more. For who else besides the rich can afford to value pedigree? And what other region of space cares so little about the alien bloodedness of asari? Looking past the prominent issues I take with your home, the practicality of its people is genuinely commendable, and to her benefit.”

“I was just under the impression that she was parsimonious with her genes because she doesn’t want to personalize or devalue herself.”

“This is likely true,” Tevos agreed. “But not necessarily representative of the future. I tell you this because if in the case she becomes amenable to your request, you have to consider all the complications and hardships to follow. You will have to drastically modify your lifestyle to accomodate another person's needs. However, I don’t want to discourage you if this is the future you want. Having a daughter can bring you immense satisfaction, newfound empathy, and pride. I just want to see you make the decision that suits you most. If it entails procreation, so be it. With _her_ , so be it. With another, so be it—and so on.”

“It’s kind of you, to be concerned,” said Anthya. “I don’t talk about this to many people. My coworkers are just as young as me or younger, so their advice tends to be… a lot more reckless.”

Before they left, the pair ventured into the areas available for common visitors. In the garden behind the main offices and gift kiosk was a variety of fruit trees lining a patio lazily baking in the afternoon heat, a convenient microcosm of the remainder of the orchard. They were allowed to sample one fruit per party from each tree, but only two were currently in season. They tried these; easily halving a red one with a peel and radial segments, which was _very_ sweet. The second one was lavender flesh around a pit. Tevos had the first bite but declared it far too tart for her taste. She relinquished it to Anthya to finish and watched fixedly, with some misplaced interest, as she fitted her lips around the edges of the bite Tevos had taken and retreated in consternation. Eyelids fluttered downward and a thumb came up to wipe her bottom lip of stray juice while she apparently tried comprehending the taste and formulating her opinion of it. 

“It probably isn’t ripe enough yet,” she said. There was a hint of dejection in Anthya’s voice, but after a few seconds spent peering at the bites, she took a final one, seeming determined to find it palatable or piquant rather than sour with a second attempt, through acquired taste. Placing her lips, again, over where Tevos swore she had been first. 

A mirage in the harsh sunlight, she told herself.


End file.
